


Basilit-an

by tempus_teapot (dreadnot)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Cats, Fluff, Gen, Qunari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:05:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4489470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadnot/pseuds/tempus_teapot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The feline, it was decided, had its role among those of the Qun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Basilit-an

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I never posted this here. I wrote this in response to a prompt from someone who'd gotten some bad news about her cats and wanted some DA2 kitty fluff.

The feline, it was decided, had its role among those of the Qun. 

This after the creature invited itself into the Qunari compound and set about eradicating every rodent and more than a few unwary birds. At first it was bony and skittish, darting behind barrels or boxes at the first sign of motion from any of the Qunari or viddathari. With time as it discovered that the giants meant it no harm – though little help beyond a bowl of untainted water left behind a crate – it grew more complacent in their presence, lounging arrogantly atop the same barrels or crates it had once used as shelter, waving its tail at the passing Qunari as though to declare that it had earned its place and would not relinquish it without challenge. 

When it first began to lose the lean boniness it had worn when it had first taken up residence among the Qunari, there was mild dispute among the Karashok and Karasten as to its nature. Surely it was reaping the rewards of its constant vigilance went one line of reasoning; those who saw otherwise noted that its hips were still bony, its neck still lean. 

A week passed and then another and the grey hunter grew wider and more and more ungainly. Even the most stubborn among the Qunari had to agree that their little bas was gravid. 

Even the Arishok looked the other way when Armaas left little shreds of meat alongside the customary bowl of water. 

Then came the day that the bas was not seen in the compound. None of the Qunari would admit to looking for it, but more than one set of eyes scanned the barrels and boxes, more than one ear was turned to listen for any cry of distress. 

A day later the grey bas crept out of a pile of crates to devour the offerings left by Armaas. It looked deflated, but it moved more easily without the ungainly weight around its middle. It swiftly disappeared back into the pile, but one of the Karasten assured the others that he had heard tiny cries upon its return, swiftly silenced. 

It emerged briefly from day to day for the first week and accepted Armaas’ tidbits as its due. After the first week, one of the Karashok reported to his brethren that he had seen it eating a rat, after which Armaas returned to leaving it only water. 

After the third week it had returned to lounging in the sun for part of the day, lashing its tail once again at any Qunari or viddathari who walked too near. It often returned to its lair among the crates, but it was obviously trying to reestablish some of its old habits. 

After the fourth week, some among the Qunari reported sighting tiny faces peering out of the shadows in the crate. One white, they said, one black. The Qunari nodded approval of the balance. And two grey like their sire. 

After the fifth week, a Karashok on guard duty found himself under attack. The little claws barely left a mark on his ankle, but the little bas at his feet reared up on its hind legs and flung both forelegs around his ankle, hugging it with unsheathed claws while it tried to gnaw through his skin with tiny needle-sharp teeth. 

He plucked it up by the scruff of its neck, the little creature plaintively crying out as he lifted it off the ground. In moments its sire was there at his feet, closer than it had ever come, uttering an angry call to him to put down its child, voicing calls to its child to reassure it that it was not alone. 

He set it in front of the grey bas and watched with curiosity as it pinned its child to the ground and licked away the offending scent of Qunari before allowing it to flee back to the safety of the crates. 

From that day forward the bas’ offspring were to be found everywhere. They did not show their parent’s disdain for contact with the Qunari, allowing touch and playing among the grey giants and their wards. They could be found in tents, in boots, and on one memorable occasion, screeching angrily when the Arishok sat on his throne without looking. 

Their sire soon taught them to hunt. Off-duty Qunari gathered to watch the lesson, taught with one of Kirkwall’s rats as a teaching tool. The little ones gathered around, curious at first and then aggressive. Their sire let them have their play before ending the lesson and sharing the results of the hunt with its offspring. 

The first time that a Karasten saw one of the little ones trotting across the compound with a mouse in its mouth even the grimmest of the Sten agreed that the creatures served a purpose. 

And if, late at night, a Karasten or Karashok on late watch duty happened to pick up one of the little ones and stroke its head while he taught it words in his mother tongue, well, it has already been decided that the felines had their roles among those of the Qun.


End file.
